Rose-Ann "Rosie" Mae Connolly is freshly emancipated and finally returning to her home in the OBX after 3 months away. 16-years-old and living alone, she's ready to have the summer of a lifetime with her friends-since-middle-school pogue crew. But w...
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Rosie had read a lot of books in her lifetime. It was safe to say she had a more extensive vocabulary than the average girl. Yet, despite the plethora of words in her internal dictionary, there was no word to describe the hangover you get from crying.
You know the feeling; the waking up with swollen eyes, a sore nose, and worst of all, a raging headache.
Maybe you don't. But Rosie surely did.
The Carolina sunrise was usually a pleasant wakeup, but this one was filled with pain and regret. Her eyes fluttered, but immediately squinted closed again from the burning brightness. Rosie forced them open upon feeling a stinging sensation in her hands. She glanced down to see both hands bandaged and held tight against her chest. The memories from the night before came flooding back, and she was suddenly aware of the pounding in her head.
Rosie groaned and stretched her sore limbs. Her hands grabbed at the emptiness beside her. She frowned as she stared at the ruffled sheets that smelled faintly of grass, firewood, and spearmint. You gave him no reason to stay, so you why expect him to?
The girl hauled herself up, but immediately regretted it. It felt as if her head was about to implode. From the throbbing of her eyes to the stinging in her hands, her entire body ached.
"Jesus, fuck," she groaned.
Rosie pulled herself out of bed, and padded towards the bathroom. The house was quiet, confirming her suspicion that JJ had left. She jolted in shock as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen. Her hair was a disaster. She felt so dirty.
She turned the silver shower knob and didn't hesitate to strip herself of the jean shorts and tube top she'd slept in. Rosie haphazardly unwrapped the bandages on her hands and cringed at the sight underneath. The blood had resurfaced at some point but eventually dried, leaving red smears behind. She had a rather deep cut down the middle of her right palm, and smaller ones littered her left. Rosie didn't hesitate to jump in the shower and wash it away.
The cold water felt soothing against her hot skin. Rosie watched red water trail down the drain until it disappeared completely. As she washed herself, she scrubbed as hard as she could. She scrubbed away the embarrassment of her episode. But the harder she scrubbed, the angrier she got. The one thing Rosie hated more than feeling weak was other people seeing her as weak. And she was far from just a little weak last night. She'd almost burned her fucking house down.
And JJ, of all people, had a front row seat.
Rosie hurried out of the shower, sick of dwelling on the night before. She threw on a pair of clothes that looked clean enough, and brushed through her wet, tangled hair. Not ready to deal with her face or hands, Rosie stepped back out into the hallway.
Her brows cinched together as she heard the rumbling of the laundry machine from the back room. She hadn't started a load.
